


Wet

by shamusandstone (theleaveswant)



Category: Firefly
Genre: F/M, Pranks and Practical Jokes, Shower Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-01-14
Updated: 2009-01-14
Packaged: 2017-10-20 16:21:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/214669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theleaveswant/pseuds/shamusandstone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jayne catches Mal in the shower . . . and he’s not alone</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wet

**Author's Note:**

> This and all other Firefly stories with this posting date were written in 2006 and posted to LJ in 2009.

“Da da ba ba, babadabada, ba badabadabadabada,” Jayne sang as he descended the ladder to the ship’s shower facilities, loudly enough that at first he didn’t hear the water already running in the first of the two stalls. He didn’t remember seeing a tag on the door; people were supposed to leave an indication of their presence in order avoid the embarrassment of unanticipated simultaneous nudity (number seventy-four in Wash’s catalogue of embarrassments). He frowned, song trailing off just in time to hear a woman giggle, promptly followed by a fierce shushing sound.

The big mercenary grinned. Must be Kaylee had persuaded the doc to give her a personal hygiene lesson. “Well, well,” he called out jovially. “Good morning.”

“I, um, uh. Morning.” It wasn’t Simon’s voice that answered, however, and it certainly wasn’t Kaylee’s.

“Mal?” he asked, perplexed, as he hung his towel on a peg outside the second stall. “Whoinell ya got in there with you?”

“What? I have no idea what you’re, uh—there ain’t nobody here but you an’ me.” Inside the stall Mal put a hand to his companion’s mouth to help her stifle another giggle.

“No, acourse not,” Jayne paused smirking. “Y’know what? I think I forgot my soap. Don’t s’pose I could borrow yers, could I?”

“Uh, sure. Why don’t I pass it to ya over the wall here?”

“Wouldya? Gee, thanks, Mal, you’re a real pal.” Instead of stepping into the empty booth, Jayne moved quietly towards the door of the occupied stall.

“It’s no trouble, really, I’m just about done.” Inside the stall the captain shot his cohort a panicked look. She responded with an apologetic shrug. Mal grabbed the soap and began to scrub furiously, coating himself with a mask of innocence and lather. As soon as he put the bar down it was picked up again and slender hands returned to add an extra layer of foamy camouflage over the marks her mouth had left on his neck and chest, then gestured for him to turn around. “Why?” he mouthed. “The scratches,” she silently replied, and he hissed as the soap stung in the crisscrossing red welts that had risen on his back since last night.

Mal spun around fast when Jayne kicked the door in, doing his best to look both shocked and affronted. “Gorrammit, Cobb, whatinell do you think you’re doin’?!”

“Oh, I’m sorry, Mal,” he chuckled, “I could have sworn I heard somebody else in here. It could have been a violent assailant.” He pushed Mal aside with the strength of one hand to expose the woman concealed behind his torso, perched on the hip-high ledge on the stall’s back wall with her slender limbs folded discretely across her body. She raised her head and the near-black curtain of her dripping hair parted to reveal dark liquid eyes that met his own with a haughty stare through the streaming water.

“Well now, ain’t that somethin’,” Jayne leered. “Does Simon know about this? I know he’s always after me to report it every time I get lucky; I bet he’d just love to grill you two about the what and where.”

Mal glared at the brute. “Jayne, you will not tell anybody about this. That’s an order.”

“Oh really?” Jayne’s heavy torso shook with impish laughter as he ran his eyes up and down over the smaller captain’s damp, bubble-clad body. “’Cause I’d like to see you stop me.”

He easily dodged Mal’s soapy-handed grab and dove for the cubby where they’d stashed their stuff. Mal lunged out of the stall after him but skittered on the slick tiles and went down hard on one knee. “Jayne, get back here!” Mal barked angrily as the mercenary hauled himself one-armed up the ladder, with their clothes and towels bundled under the other.

Mal shot to his feet, blood streaming down his shin, and cast about for something to cover himself with. Unfortunately, the only item on offer was Jayne’s towel, which looked like it had traveled a few miles since its last wash. The moment his reluctance to touch the stained terry cost him was all it took for Jayne to make good his escape, the heavy thumps of his running stride receding down the corridor along with his gleefully urgent shouts for Kaylee.

Mal heard the water shut off and sighed heavily. “I’m sorry,” he said to the woman who stepped gracefully from the stall, wringing water from her mane.

“What are you apologizing to me for?” she asked, smiling.

He frowned. “Jayne’s going to tell everybody about us. I kinda figured you wouldn’t want that.”

Inara smiled and rose up on tiptoes to kiss him. “Why don’t you let me handle that,” she said as she brushed past him to the ladder and ascended smoothly, her radiant skin still bare and glistening with moisture.


End file.
